was slow, and his voice tremulous and mournful.  He was easily excited to smiles, but very seldom provoked to laughter.  His judgment was eminently exact, both with regard to writings and to men.  The knowledge of life was his chief attainment.  He was born rather to bear misfortunes greatly, than to enjoy prosperity with moderation.  He discovered an amazing firmness of spirit, in spurning those who presumed to dictate to him in the lowest circumstances of misery; but we never can reconcile the idea of true greatness of mind, with the perpetual inclination Savage discovered to live upon the bounty of his friends.  To struggle for independence appears much more laudable, as well as a higher instance of spirit, than to be the pensioner of another.

As Savage had seen so much of the world, and was capable of so deep a penetration into nature, it was strange he could not form some scheme of a livelihood, more honourable than that of a poetical mendicant:  his prosecuting any plan of life with diligence, would have thrown more lustre on his character, than, all his works, and have raised our ideas of the greatness of his spirit, much, beyond the conduct we have already seen.  If poverty is so great an evil as to expose a man to commit actions, at which he afterwards blushes, to avoid this poverty should be the continual care of every man; and he, who lets slip every opportunity of doing so, is more entitled to admiration than pity, should he bear his sufferings nobly.

Mr. Savage’s temper, in consequence of the dominion of his passions, was uncertain and capricious.  He was easily engaged, and easily disgusted; but he is accused of retaining his hatred more tenaciously than his benevolence.  He was compassionate both by nature and principle, and always ready to perform offices of humanity; but when he was provoked, and very small offences were sufficient to provoke him, he would prosecute his revenge with the utmost acrimony, ’till his passion had subsided.  His friendship was therefore of little value, for he was zealous in the support, or vindication of those whom he loved, yet it was always dangerous to trust him, because he considered himself as discharged by the first quarrel, from all ties of honour and gratitude.  He would even betray those secrets, which, in the warmth of confidence, had been imparted to him.  His veracity was often questioned, and not without reason.  When he loved any man, he suppressed all his faults, and when he had been offended by him, concealed all his virtues.  But his characters were generally true, so far as he proceeded, though it cannot be denied, but his partiality might have sometimes the effect of falshood.

In the words of the celebrated writer of his life, from whom, as we observed in the beginning, we have extracted the account here given, we shall conclude this unfortunate person’s Memoirs, which were so various as to afford large scope for an able biographer, and which, by this gentleman, have been represented with so great a mastery, and force of penetration, that the Life of Savage, as written by him, is an excellent model for this species of writing.